The Changing Day
by RealmOfPossibility
Summary: Two days in Emma Swan's life; one she would rather forget and another she'd never want to… A companion piece to the With You Beside Me Universe. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hello again readers. No multi-chapter this time and it isn't a sequel to my trilogy. I was just in the mood for some musing and this is what came out. You don't really need to have read the 3 stories, though there may be some vague mentions of things that happened and a few lines from them. It takes place at some undetermined time after the events of Whenever I Fall.**

**(Not sure of exact timelines for the first part of the story, so just pretend it's accurate. We're in a fandom, we're good at pretending.)**

******The Changing Day**

2001:

The cardboard cup sat on the old, worn Formica surface of the table. Its edges were dented in places from where she had bitten down slightly, her teeth gently gnawing at the soft material as she rotated it around. The colour of the pattern on the cup seemed faded, washed-out somehow, old even before use. It seemed to her that everything in this place was old and worn.

The linoleum floor.

The chipped countertops.

The prehistoric coffee machine drilling and sputtering away in the background.

And even the occupant sitting at this table.

The coffee in the cup sat cold and forgotten. It tasted a little like dishwater anyway. A little of the liquid had spilled out at some point on a trip from the table to her mouth and had gathered in a ring on the underside of the cup, adding yet another dirty smudge to the collection scattered across the table. Old marks that had become part of the table now, which no amount of cleanser and elbow grease would be able to remove.

Perhaps they should rip off the surface completely and start new.

She moved the cup back and forth slowly, watching as the smudge spread, thinning out until it finally rendered the bottom of the cup dry. She paused, before tilting the cup slightly to see how far she could get the contents to slide to the rim of the cup without spilling over.

"More coffee there, Hon?"

She jerked and righted the cup, placing it down on the table and hiding her hands in her lap. Again she jerked, this time her head nodding, and watched as the waitress produced a new cup, filling it with more of the dishwater coffee. She didn't look up, keeping her eyes firmly fixed elsewhere until she was alone again. When she did look up, it was to crane her neck around to catch the time on the clock above the Specials board. The morning sun shone in the window, casting a bright reflection onto its surface, making it difficult to see the figures.

Ten forty-five. Her appointment was at eleven. It was barely a three-minute walk. She could hide here in the diner for another twelve minutes.

She reached up to drag a hand through her limp, dull hair. Maybe she should have washed it for the appointment, but she was low on shampoo, really low, and it seemed a little too much like a luxury to make it onto her shopping list this week. Besides, her parole officer had probably seen way worse things than unwashed hair. He barely looked at her during their appointments anyway. She was never late, never gave him any trouble, never said much. The whole thing took hardly any time at all.

A formality really.

She briefly wondered if he would know what today was. It had to be there somewhere, among the pages of notes and forms and documents he kept in her file, a file she had always thought was way too large for someone with her minor record. What did all those pages say anyway? Was there really so much information about her? If there was, it was more than she knew about herself.

No family.

A menial job.

Crappy apartment, if you could even call it an apartment. It felt more like an alcove with a sink, a toilet and a bed.

Social security number.

And a list of the stupid things she'd done, mostly focused on the stupidest of all. The time she'd got caught.

She wondered, though, if she could consider herself as having been caught when it had really been because someone had ratted her out. Someone who'd stabbed her in the back, while taking her heart in the process. When he'd made those fantasy-rich promises and she'd chased them, right into the hands of the law.

Sometimes she still found herself wondering what had happened.

Maybe _tha_t was the stupidest thing she'd ever done, falling for a fantasy, though she supposed that probably wasn't in the file.

Nor would his name be. Or any other names connected to her. None that meant anything anyway. Just a list of foster families.

And an unnamed baby.

Best not to think about that particular someone.

The bell above the front door jingled. Another old and worn customer shuffled in, murmuring an order at the front counter.

She looked out the window to where the sun was shining. To where people walked by as if they had a plan. Somewhere to go. Something to accomplish today. She didn't look at the people who were walking alone. There was too much of herself in them. Instead she focused on the twos and threes, staring intently at their faces as they passed. Some had the serious faces and emphatic gestures of important conversation. Others had the wide-mouthed expressions of helpless laughter, hands reaching out to slap the shoulder of the joker. Others had an expression she couldn't really define. She thought maybe it was comfort.

And then her eyes drifted to the other side of the road.

And she saw them.

A twosome.

The toddler, wispy brown hair waving about in the breeze, stamped unsteadily about, seemingly going nowhere but in circles. Barely a metre away, the mother stood, fighting with the mechanisms of a stroller, turning her head every so often to check on the child. Finally winning the battle, the mother turned and lifted the child high into the air.

She leaned forward, resting her arms on the dirty, marked table and watched them.

They gleamed. Everything about them gleamed and sparkled. They probably didn't even know it, that their happiness was lighting up a street already bright with sunshine and people having important conversations.

Her face furrowed into the familiar frown, her mouth turning down as she watched them. It felt colder here in the diner. The sun hadn't made it here yet.

The mother placed the toddler in the stroller and strapped her in. She reached up and loosened a ribbon from the handle of the stroller and wrapped it around the wrist of the child. The child looked up at the balloon now attached to her wrist and flapped her arms about, causing it to bounce around madly and the child to let out a happy squeal. The exact pattern on the balloon was too hard to make out, but the words weren't.

_Happy Birthday._

She sat back and turned her head away abruptly, her eyes moving to the clock again. Ten fifty-nine.

She stood up quickly and shrugged into her jacket. Crossing the floor, she yanked the door open and stepped out into the street, zipping up her jacket and looking up to where the sun had disappeared behind a cloud.

She tried to breathe out the hard knot of heaviness in her chest.

As she crossed the street, she made a mental note to stop in at the bakery on her way home, to pick up a cupcake.

Yes, shampoo would be a luxury this week.

She'd put it on next week's list.

She pulled open the door to the building and stepped inside, briskly making her way to the elevator.

And wondered again if, amongst all the pages and forms and documents of her life, her parole officer would see _that_ in there.

That today was her birthday.

* * *

Present:

The cup sat empty in her hands, her stomach warm and satisfied with the sugary smoothness of its contents.

Emma leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and nibbled the edge of the cup absently, rotating it around slowly with her fingers.

It was early. In fact, there were only two other customers sharing Granny's with her. She couldn't remember their fairytale names. She'd merely nodded and smiled as they'd passed her with a "Mornin' Sheriff."

The apartment had been dead quiet when she'd awoken, the rest of the household still asleep. She often woke up early these days.

Sometimes she still woke with names and images in her head.

_A fallen warrior._

_A plucky princess._

_An arrow in her shoulder._

_A small scrap of bloody clothing._

_Ashes coming to life in a portal._

_Hands softly caressing her cheek._

She'd stared at the ceiling for long minutes, comparing the silence of Storybrooke, Maine, with the silence of the Enchanted Forest. Then, spotting a small crack in the corner above her bed, comparing bedrooms she'd inhabited in years past, with the bedroom she now resided in, causing her to burrow under the warm covers just a little deeper.

She reached out for her phone, which sat on the bedside table and pressed the Home button. The screen flashed on as she checked the time, her eyes briefly flicking down to take in the date.

She sat up and ran a hand through her hair, untangling the pillow-flattened waves. Throwing the covers back, she swivelled her legs around to touch the floor. She stood and walked over to the chair in the corner, picking up her jeans which lay over the top and stepping into them. After pulling a hoodie over her head, she grabbed her house key and moved to the door, opening it quietly.

She padded down the stairs and stood at the bottom of the staircase, listening. Her eyes moved immediately to the couch and she could just make out Henry's shape in the dim light of the room, a small, unmoving lump, curled up in slumber.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

Her head turned towards the curtain pulled across the other 'bedroom.' There was no sound on the other side. Emma stared at the curtain, chewing the inside of her lip.

She'd always known what to expect on this day. It had become almost comforting in its monotony. Its sameness. Its predictability. After so many years of this, the hurt and loneliness had mostly receded to the background, except when she let herself think about it. Or when she'd had too much to drink.

But, today?

Today was different. Or at least it felt like it should be. Or at least she hoped it might be.

Or something like that.

But, the old Emma in her, the one who still rose up more than occasionally, didn't want to wait around to find out. Found that feeling, that hope a little unnerving. Though, if she was honest, she would admit to making progress. Unnerving was certainly a step up from terrifying. A step up from impossible-even-to-think-about.

But, still…

So, she tiptoed to the door and picked up her shoes. She turned the knob of the front door silently and slipped out, the door closing with a quiet click.

"More coffee, Sheriff?"

Emma's jaw stilled, the edge of the slightly-mangled cup still caught between her teeth. She blinked out of her reverie and lifted her eyes to where Ruby stood, her arm out, holding a jug of coffee, ready to pour. She pulled the cup away from her mouth, glanced down at it, before pushing it toward her friend.

"And…" Ruby said slyly, brandishing a plate from behind her back. "A little extra something."

Emma looked down at the bearclaw on the plate Ruby had placed in front of her.

"I didn't order this," she replied, looking up at Ruby.

Ruby, face still sly, grinned crookedly and waved a hand in dismissal.

"On the house. To celebrate the day."

Emma frowned as Ruby smiled expectantly. Finally, she chuckled exasperatedly and shook her head.

"Happy Birthday, Emma."

Emma froze and felt something inside her _clench_, and she dropped her eyes momentarily to look at the gift.

"How did you…?" she eventually asked, feeling embarrassed at the softness of her voice.

Ruby smiled again and tilted her head.

"I've known your mom forever," she said knowingly and turned, flouncing away to the next table.

Emma let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and picked up the bearclaw, taking a large bite. Her eyes closed and she sighed again, her lips curling into a half-smile.

Already, today was different.

On the table in front of her, her phone flashed on silently as someone attempted to call her. She glanced at the name on the screen, chewing slowly until the caller gave up and the phone darkened once more.

They'd find her in due course. Not that she was trying to be evasive, but she'd rather answer the inevitable questions face-to-face than over the phone.

The bell above the door to the diner jingled.

"Emma!"

Her head snapped up at the voice and she watched the energetic boy race towards her, waving an envelope back and forth through the air. She stood up and moved out of the booth and he grabbed at her tightly. She ruffled the hair on his head affectionately.

"Hey kid. What are you doing here?"

He looked up at her and smiled. Yes, today was certainly different.

"Mom picked me up. She's walking me to school. I told her I wanted to give you something."

Emma's eyes raised and she looked out the front window. Regina stood across the street, arms crossed, watching their little scene. There was no smile, but neither was there the frown to which she had become accustomed. Emma let go of Henry to lift a hand in greeting. The former mayor, arms still crossed, raised the fingers of one hand in return. A small gesture to be sure, but something.

"Emma?"

She looked down again.

"Sorry, kid, you wanted to give me something?"

He thrust the envelope into her hand and grinned bashfully. Already, she had a feeling she knew what was inside, so she sat back down and pulled the flap of the envelope out. A yellow cartoon volkswagon filled the front of the card and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she huffed a laugh. She opened the card, her eyes skimming over the childish handwriting. Her lips tightened as she read the closing sentiments.

_Love, Henry._

She swallowed a rapidly closing throat and looked up at him.

"Thankyou…" Her voice sounded unnatural, but Henry didn't seem to notice.

He nodded, still smiling.

"You can have your present tonight, ok?" he said, reaching out to hug her again.

Her chest burned as she tightened her arms around him, before releasing him.

He bounded out the door and across the street. As she watched Regina place an arm around his shoulders, watched his hand clasp around her waist tightly, she couldn't remember being more thankful that his birthday had always been important to someone.

She breathed in a deep breath, blowing out her cheeks. She wasn't sure what to do with all this. If a bearclaw and a card caused such a flurry of feelings and tightness, how much more could she take before going to pieces?

She finished the pastry and gulped half of the coffee. The diner was filling up. She watched as the customers came and went, the jingle of the bell becoming a constant sound in the background, difficult to hear as the noise of conversation increased. And it was with a start, as she returned nods and smiles and hellos to people who passed her booth, that she realised she knew almost every single person in the room.

The sun came out then and lit up her table near the door with bright yellow light, causing her to squint and blink. It was blinding and she almost reached for her sunglasses, before deciding to wait for her eyes to get used to the light. The brightness seemed to envelope her and what was sure to be weak sunlight when she stepped outside felt warm and comforting from the cosiness of the diner.

As she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them without having to squint, the bell jingled again and the door clicked shut.

"Just coffee, Ruby," Emma heard a voice say.

She wondered how simply hearing that voice now made her feel ready for something good. Made her sit up a little straighter. Made her feel like she should be prepared for feelings that made her want to laugh for the sheer pleasure of it.

_I'll have you exactly where I want you. Right beside me._

_My darling, this is just the start._

_That doesn't even begin to cover what I would do for you._

Not that she would ever reveal such deep, strange feelings. But, her mother never made her give voice to anything she didn't want to share.

Oh, that endless patience. That unending reserve of understanding Snow seemed to possess. And it _was_ Snow now. It was who she saw herself as, who she wanted to be and Emma had tried hard to accept that, had been trying ever since their travels through the Enchanted Forest. Somehow, the struggle seemed worth it.

"Mind if I join you?"

Emma met her eyes and nodded, licking her lips nervously. Of all the moments of this day that felt like it could be different from days past, this was the one that she had anticipated the most. Been scared of the most.

Made her think about that baby with the balloon all those years ago.

"Have you eaten?" Snow asked, before catching sight of the empty plate. "Bearclaw?" She smirked, casting her eyes briefly up to Ruby as she set her coffee down, before moving on to deliver another order.

"Yeah, a freebie no less," Emma replied, trying to sound like the gesture hadn't just about made her cry.

Snow nodded slowly.

"Did Henry come by yet?" she asked, steepling her fingers together and resting them under her chin.

Emma pushed the card towards her and Snow picked it up, smiling slightly at the cover. She glanced at Emma as she flicked the card open, before turning her attention to the words inside. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she closed the card, handing it back to Emma.

They looked at each other for a moment.

Snow nodded down at Emma's phone.

"You didn't pick up before," she stated.

Emma cleared her throat and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Yeah…sorry. I wasn't ignoring you, I…"

"Knew I'd ask why you snuck out of the house like that on the morning of your birthday?"

And there it was again.

A statement from her mother that left her with no answer but the truth. Like she always carried around a sledgehammer in case Emma had the notion of building another wall. Never had a sledgehammer felt so…nice.

Emma picked up her now-empty cup, just to give her hands something to do.

"I wasn't…sure what was going to happen today," she began, looking from her mother's gaze to somewhere behind her and back again.

Snow's head tilted slightly to the side.

"You thought we'd forget?" she questioned, her brow furrowed a little.

"I didn't know," Emma admitted after a pause. "I thought maybe it would just be another day, you know? Or maybe…"

"Maybe we'd want to celebrate your first birthday together?" Snow finished, pulling a small package from her lap and placing it in front of Emma. "To me, it's your first birthday and your twenty-ninth and all the ones in-between." She lowered her gaze for a moment. "I tried writing you a card, but I think I put too much pressure on it. Should I sound like your friend or your mom? How much writing would be too much?" She gestured toward the gift. "Then, I thought about what you'd want. You'd want actions, not words." She caught Emma's eye and gave that disarming grin. "Oh, don't worry, you'll get words, plenty of words, especially when your father gets here in a minute and later when we do a proper celebration. And your real present is coming. But, for now, just you and me…" She gestured again to the package.

Emma picked up the present and tightened her grip, feeling the shape underneath. She knew what it was instantly and pulled at the tape holding the gift-wrap in place.

It was back-to-front when she pulled the paper off and she turned it over. She held the wooden frame in both hands and stared.

Her hair in the picture was limp and dull. It had taken a few days of washes to make it look decent again after they'd returned through the portal. Her eyes in the picture were darkened by the shadows underneath, the result of sleeplessness and the stress of escaping Cora. But, there was something of relief in the eyes that stared at the camera. And a genuine smile, though it was half-embarrassed.

Her gaze drifted over the other people in the photo. Half the town had tried to cram into it, symbolic of the joy everyone had felt at their return. Granny's had been jam-packed that day. But, the people at the front. Her parents, Henry…they were the ones surrounding her.

She thought of the toddler again, jerking the balloon this way and that. The child had had no idea the specialness of that day, only that her mommy had given her something shiny and bouncy to play with. And that alone had been cause for happiness, for a smile and a squeal.

Perhaps she knew now what that little girl had felt then. The day didn't matter. But, she mattered.

This was a good deal more precious than a balloon though.

Emma felt a hand cover hers and she looked up, blinking as she felt the faint trickle sliding down her face. She quickly reached up and wiped it away, chuckling and sniffling at the same time. She smiled at Snow, who was watching her carefully, apparently ready for any reaction.

"I don't think you have any pictures," she said eventually, nodding at the photo frame. "So, I thought I'd give you one."

Emma nodded, her eyes continuing to burn, wishing suddenly that they weren't at Granny's where everyone could see them.

"Thanks," she choked out. She placed the gift on the table and turned her hand over so she could grip Snow's. "It's really…great." She winced internally at the insipid words, so she squeezed her mother's hand to say the things she couldn't.

Snow was right. There'd be time for words, plenty of words, later.

Now, all she could do was think about how much this day had changed. The days of hiding in a diner, of a toddler and a balloon, of a lonely candle flickering on top of a sad little cupcake were gone.

Her first birthday and her twenty-ninth, all wrapped up in one.

She looked up.

"What are we doing later?" she asked.

Snow grinned mischievously.

"Oh, just a little family celebration," she said casually, lifting her coffee to her mouth and taking a sip. She licked her lips as she set it down.

Emma narrowed her eyes, recognising the sound of gentle ribbing.

"Ok, my darling," Snow replied to the unspoken question. "Just be ready not to sleep much tonight. Twenty-nine years takes some time to celebrate."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I've been in a mood lately and writing alone-and-sad-pre-Storybrooke Emma fed its somewhat voracious appetite. So, I decided to continue for 1 more chapter, whilst attempting something new. So this chapter includes my first effort at the Emma/David side of things.**

**Thanks for reading :)**

2001:

The wind seemed to pick up as she left the building. She pushed the door open and held it for a harried-looking man in a business suit, who was far too busy lecturing someone on his phone to notice.

_You're welcome._

She shoved her hands in her pockets to shield them from the bitter air, and stood in front of the building for a moment, undecided about which way to go. She glanced to her right, her eyes drifting briefly to the spot where she had last seen the mother and her child.

Of all the things that could have, it was the balloon that had grated on her nerves. Not the unknowing innocence and trust of the toddler, which had made her wonder if she'd ever had that. Not the loving embrace of the mother. She'd _always_ wondered about that, most often in the solitude and silence of the night, when no one could witness her terrible weakness of sobbing into her pillow, trying to figure out why she'd even been born in the first place.

No, it was the balloon.

Innocence and trust were abstract.

An embrace was over in a moment and eventually forgotten, no matter how warm it may have been.

But, a gift…a gift lingered. A gift showed a point in time when an intangible love became solid and substantial. A gift, if kept, made a memory alive. Or fed a fantasy one could live with.

Maybe that's why she'd kept that baby blanket all these years.

Or quite possibly, it was easier to resent a balloon than it was to resent the child who'd received it. Because that would be _low_.

Perhaps not the lowest thing she'd ever done, but still…

Another gust of icy wind brought her back to the street where she was still standing, motionless. She still hadn't decided what to do. She didn't have to work until tonight, leaving the rest of the morning and all afternoon free.

Free.

What a joke.

She turned to the left and began scuffing along the sidewalk, her head bowed against the wind. It was a good fifteen minute walk to her bus stop. Maybe she'd ride the bus for awhile. Sometimes it was good to feel the ground moving under her, miles being swallowed up behind her, something better in front of her.

A birthday present to herself.

Speaking of which…

She lifted her head at that thought and scanned the street before her. Spotting a bakery up ahead, she stepped towards the curb, looked both ways, and crossed to the other side of the street. She burrowed deeper into her pocket, feeling for the coins buried therein and entered the bakery. She breathed in deeply, allowing the scent of freshly baked goods to waft into her nostrils. The corners of her mouth twitched in the brief flicker of a smile and she approached the counter.

"What can I get for you?"

She briefly looked up at the shop assistant.

"Give me a sec."

She studied the display cabinets carefully, making a bee-line for the cakes and pastries. Six choices today. She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, spotting the one.

"Can I get that one there?" She pointed.

"The one with the raspberry frosting?"

She nodded and pulled her hand out of her pocket. Opening it, she began counting the warm change she had been clutching. She placed the coins on the counter and the assistant handed her a small paper bag. She watched as he tossed her shampoo money into the register and slammed the drawer shut.

"Enjoy."

She nodded slightly, before turning and walking out. She adjusted her grip on the bag, lifting her hand to look at it. She'd save it for later, much later, when she got home from work in the small, late hours and had to listen to the silence of her alcove/apartment. Maybe then it would make her feel better.

Walking again, she spotted the park up ahead and decided to take a shortcut to her stop. The leaves were disappearing from the trees as everything prepared to die for winter. But, that didn't stop a few brave souls from persevering with a picnic, or a semi-intellectual discussion under the pseudo shelter of a tree.

Or a game of kick-ball.

Maybe she should cut twosomes out of her observations as well.

The kid was pretty hopeless. No more than nine or ten, her ponytail swung as her leg wound up and part of the toe of her shoe caught the ball, causing it to roll forward a few metres, still way too far from her father.

It was his grin that caused her to stare. In fact, she almost stopped when she saw it.

She'd never seen a man smile like that.

So…

So…

Sincerely.

Openly.

Like there was nothing held back from it or hidden behind it.

Most of the men she'd known had rarely smiled. Or maybe they had smiled all the time, but she had rarely seen them. The men or the smiles. She'd seen leering smiles. A lot of them. And forced smiles, which said "go away" more than anything else. _He _had smiled, in that bashful way, especially when they talked about _futures_ and _Tallahassee _and _love_. But, then he'd stabbed her in the back and she'd probably punch the smile off his face if she ever saw it again.

"_Use the side of your foot, kiddo."_

She watched as the father took aim and connected with the ball. The girl took a few steps across and tried to return it mid-roll, missing completely.

And then it was heading straight for her. It was as if she were a magnet and the ball was made of metal, rolling, rolling, rolling…

She lifted her foot and stopped it. Looked up to see him chuckling.

"_Would you mind…?"_

She stared at his friendly face as his daughter jogged towards her. Without thinking about it, she lowered her leg and kicked it back, using the side of her foot.

"_Thanks."_

And suddenly she had the fantasy of being invited to join in their game. Of making their twosome into a triangle here in the bitter wind.

But, she was way too practiced at living in someone else's family. She knew too much about being on the outside, desperate and hungry, looking in at the feast.

She swallowed and kept walking, fighting the urge to fling her pathetic paper bag into the bushes.

Yes, today was a good day to flee the preceding miles with the bus. She couldn't bear to return to the alcove so soon.

She tried not to listen to them as she walked away.

This time there was no balloon to resent.

_Happy Birthday…_

* * *

Present:

"Do you want anything else?" Snow asked, standing up and sidling out from behind the table. "I'm just going to talk to Ruby for a minute."

Emma looked up, shaking her head.

"No, thanks. I'm good."

Snow smiled and Emma briefly had the idea that she was about to reach forward and brush a hand over her cheek. It wouldn't be the first time. Or even the twentieth. Instead, her mother simply nodded and headed to the counter.

Emma turned slightly and put the photo frame on the seat next to her, gazing down on it a moment longer.

The bell jingled.

"She said you'd be here."

She heard her neck crack slightly as she turned and looked up.

He smiled crookedly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It made her think of smiles she'd never seen.

"Either that or down by the river," he continued, looking toward the counter and letting his eyes rest on Snow momentarily. He looked down at her again. "This seat taken?"

He had a gentle voice today. A voice that sounded like a smile, even without the visual.

She'd heard him address others in the hours after the curse had broken. Full of disdain when talking to Whale. (And outrage when he'd discovered what Whale had done with his wife). Cold, when referring to the wraith as Regina's problem. Firm and commanding, yet he didn't seem to feel the need to shout.

Uncomfortably, Emma had the notion that the gentle voice was for her. For the people he kept close.

The people he loved.

Emma gestured toward the chair.

"Be my guest."

Weeks together with Snow had eased the burden of unfamiliarity. The life and death struggles had thrown them together in a way that life in Storybrooke could never have done.

And now she was more grateful than she could say for such a nightmare.

So, she faced this man now in the most difficult of ways. There was nothing to hide behind. No circumstances. There was no wraith, no bandits or ogres. No Cora. No magic.

Just a table between herself and her father.

"Did you sleep ok?" he asked as he settled into his chair.

She nodded and shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling all at sea. For almost all of their previous interaction, Snow had been with them, their unconscious buffer. Snow was the thread that connected them, the entity that joined them together. This felt like a floundering, a flailing.

But, he surprised her.

"I know Snow got you a little something extra for your birthday," he began. She supposed the fact that he knew about Snow's gift was due to True Love never hiding anything from each other. She still wasn't sure about the whole True Love thing, truth be told.

"Yeah," she replied, looking down at the photo again.

He paused, his hand in mid-air, before reaching down and picking up a package from the seat beside him.

"I wanted to do the same." He gazed at her. Were his eyes gentle like his voice? She thought maybe they were. "I know we're not _there_ yet. You and Snow went through…something…out there and things are different."

If that knowledge hurt him, he didn't let on. In fact, she appreciated the fact that he had addressed the elephant in the room. That her relationship with Snow had left his own far behind. She probably wouldn't have.

"It's not much," he continued and passed it over to her.

She fingered the tissue paper and pressed down. Frowning, she began tearing the paper off until she could pull it off completely and reveal what had been inside.

"Before you admire my craftsmanship," David said, "I asked Marco if he would do it. He did a far superior job to any attempt I could make."

She had seen something like it before. Rectangular and plastic, with bright, garish colours written in link script, probably made in some sweatshop overseas. She remembered a foster brother had once had one on his door. He had been with the family long enough to warrant a bedroom bearing his name.

This one, though, was made of rich, aromatic wood. She held it in her hand and ran a finger over its smooth finish. She traced the deeply-carved four letters of her name and swallowed thickly.

"You don't have to put it on your door," David explained. He lifted one shoulder. "None of us knows what's going to happen. But, I wanted you to have…something. Something from me."

She swallowed again and blinked quickly, before looking up at him.

"Thankyou. It's…beautiful."

His smile spoke of happiness. And perhaps a touch of relief too.

"We're going to get there, Emma," he said quietly, but firmly. "My life has taught me to be patient for the things that are truly worthy."

Maybe True Love meant being sure too.

She stared at him, suddenly wondering what those lessons were, the ones he'd learned. Suddenly realising how little she knew of the man sitting across from her.

"Okay," she replied.

He looked up and spotted Snow finishing her conversation with Ruby. He slid out of his seat and stood. He turned back to Emma and suddenly grinned, reaching out a hand as if expecting something. Emma frowned in confusion and he nodded towards her hand resting on the table. She lifted it hesitantly and reached out. Were they going to shake hands?

He grasped her hand and turned it over, palm down, and bent forward, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand.

Emma raised her eyebrows, feeling embarrassed but completely _warm_ inside.

"Charming," she stated. "Now I see it."

"That's not why Snow gave me that name," he said, straightening up and continuing to smile in _tha_t way. "Maybe we'll tell you about it at the party tonight."

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Snow didn't say anything about a party." Though what else would it be?

David's face fell slightly, before it was replaced with a wry grin.

"Well, try not to act like you expected it," he replied. He took a step back as Snow joined them.

"Hey, what's going on?" she asked, looking from father to daughter.

David shrugged.

"We were just deciding what to have for breakfast." He looked down at Emma again. "Bearclaw?" When she nodded, he turned to Snow. "Eggs?"

Emma watched him walk away in that easy, confident way he seemed to possess. She looked down again at the carved wood in her hand.

And her mind rewound to that moment in the hospital before the world had irreversibly altered, when she had held Henry's book in her hands, and been helpless to stop the rushing images of a world beyond her knowledge. And as Emma again ran her fingers over the letters of her name, her mind's eye fixed on a single image of a handsome prince, shining sword in one hand.

And a tiny baby in his arms.


End file.
